


Break My Strings

by tabris



Category: DBSK | Tohoshinki | TVfXQ | TVXQ
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-03-18
Updated: 2009-03-18
Packaged: 2018-01-06 23:37:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1112849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tabris/pseuds/tabris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not like either of you can really be called dainty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Break My Strings

It's not like either of you can really be called dainty no matter what some of the fans say, but it surprises you a little how easily he can pin both of your wrists to the wall over your head with just one hand. You twist, testing his grip, only to have it tighten just to the point of sharpness as he breathes out your name. Want, need, love, and the barest hint of doubt darken his eyes and it's the last that makes you surge forward with the scant leverage you can get to catch his lower lip between your teeth and tug, shuddering as his mouth opens easily beneath yours. Two seconds later you wonder how you've managed to yet again lose complete control of the situation, his other hand ( _so_ that's _where that went_ ) pushing up your shirt to get to the heated skin underneath, your borrowed jeans slung low enough for him to have easy access to that tender spot alongside your hipbone. He's pressed against you from chest to thigh, his knee pushed in between yours and you can feel just _how_ much he wants this and _you're_ the one that just made that high-pitched mewl. Lips slide damp across your cheek to your ear and he presses a smile into your skin but you forgive him because you completely plan on seeing what sounds you can get out of him. Once you can move again, that is.

For now you're good with rolling your body up in invitation. _Take whatever you want..._ and he gets it. Suddenly your hips have a much freer range of motion even if your arms are still totally useless. Something makes a clinking noise and your gaze swivels towards the door, the blood rushing in your ears making it impossible to tell where the sound originated.

This time he does laugh, low and teasing. "They won't be home for a half hour."

Your pants start slipping down and you realize. Your belt. Oh.

And then _oh..._ when long fingers wrap around your cock and squeeze, making you knock your head back against the wall and your eyes automatically clench shut. Hot breath ghosts over your adam's apple and then there are sharp teeth nipping at your collarbone ( _fuck the stylists, you'll deal with them later_ ) followed by a tongue, then back to the teeth, harder now, scraping towards the hollow of your throat.

It's not even a mewl now, your voice gone out the window along with your restraint as you shamelessly thrust into his hand, knees starting to wobble the closer you get to coming. Which won't be long at all if he keeps twisting his wrist at the end of each stroke like _that_.

"More..." you try to say, your mouth forming the words but nothing coming out. Somehow he knows, though, and everywhere he's touching you right then is too much- your wrists are definitely going to be bruised in the morning to match the ones along your neck, and years of him frustrating you beyond belief finally let themselves go.

You're shaking and so very glad he's holding you up. When you crack your eyes open, heavy, you very nearly have to close them right back at the way he's staring at you, pupils blown, tongue curling around his finger.

He lets your arms slip free and you lean boneless and thankful for the wall that you'll never look at quite the same way. Ever. You can touch him now you remember, and you run still-tingling fingers down his side, around his neck, over his lips and just between. He gives you a smirk and nips your fingertip; you smirk back and nudge him so that you can slide down the wall to your knees without even bothering to do up your fly. From the low curse he lets out, you win _that_ particular battle.

The strip of skin showing at his navel taunts you until you give in, swiping your tongue across it while your fingers, working much better now thanks, busy themselves with undoing his pants. You nuzzle the soft material at your cheek, glancing upwards at his sharp intake of breath to give him a cheeky wink before returning your attention to where you really want it. If you turn your head the tiniest bit, you'll... there. Heavy and hot even through the cloth, you mouth the line of his cock, the now open zipper an inch to the right, but there's something you like about this- the anticipation, the scent that's all him, the way you can slide your hand up the inside of his thigh to make him tremble.

At the surprisingly soft touch of his hand feathering through the hair at your nape you relent and slip his pants down over his hips, then a bit more carefully with his underwear, biting your lip a little in concentration and a little to remind yourself that yes, this really _is_ happening. You wrap your fingers around his cock, more gentle than his oh so sweet rough strokes, leaning back in close and you have no plan whatsoever, you just want him. You want to taste him, so you do, your tongue lapping at the velvet soft skin under your fingers then laving the underside from root to tip, your lips coming away salty.

His nails dig into your skin for a moment and it hits you that he of all people is holding back. It shouldn't surprise you, not really, but it makes you glare upwards as you lower your mouth around his cock, sucking lightly and sliding him back as far as you can take him. The look on his face makes you smug and turned on even more than that and you can't help but moan since it's about the only sound you can make at the moment. You move back a little until your head hits the wall and he follows, his cock, slick with your spit, slips out of your mouth and you wrap your fingers back around the base and squeeze, just enough to make absolutely sure you have his attention.

"You're not going to break me, you know," you tell him and the bastard just _laughs_ and _smirks_ and the next thing you know his hand is around your throat, his thumb digging into the tender space beneath your jaw just this side of uncomfortable and you think if you hadn't already come once tonight you'd have seriously embarrassed yourself right there.

For all his laughter he can tell just how serious you are and proves it by thrusting shallowly between your open lips, his hand cradling your jaw lovingly for a second before letting go. His thrusts get harder so you use your hands just as much as your lips and tongue and the whole thing is wet and messy and hot and you can _see_ his thighs tremble, feel his balls tighten when you curl your fingertips lower, back. You relax your throat and constrict your grip as he constricts your air and he's coming down your throat, arms braced on the wall over your head.

Your hands stroke his thigh up to his hip, soothing as you release him to place gentle kisses below his navel.

 _Never heard you make_ that _sound before..._ you think, you say, but it comes out hoarser than you expect and the sound makes him shudder and give you a quirky smile. He reaches an arm down to your shoulder, thumbing your collarbone and you stay there for a moment to catch your breath. Eventually you unfold your legs and stand, pulling him into a deep kiss, lazy and slow and you think to yourself _I could definitely get used to this..._

**Author's Note:**

> also @ [lj](http://users.livejournal.com/_tabris/5615.html) | [dw](http://cheri.dreamwidth.org/25934.html)  
> 


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